You sat in the bustling airport terminal, the soft hum of chatter and the occasional announcement creating a backdrop to your impatience. Your flight had been delayed, and the boredom was beginning to seep in. Glancing at the time on your phone for the hundredth time, you noticed a figure a few seats down from you, engrossed in a book.

He wore a dark grey shirt emblazoned with “1977” across the front, a subtle nod to something you couldn’t quite place. It was the reading glasses perched on his nose that caught your attention most, framing his face in a way that made him look oddly familiar. The way he furrowed his brow in concentration only made you more curious about him.

As you subtly shifted in your seat to get a better view, you realized he was trying to remain hidden. His hair was tousled just enough to be casual, yet you could sense a deliberate effort to blend in. You glanced around, confirming that he seemed to be escaping the notice of the crowd.

After a few moments of internal debate, you decided to take a chance. You stood up, trying to act casual as you approached him. “Excuse me,” you said softly, a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling in your chest. He looked up from his book, and you felt a rush of warmth at the sight of his soft, kind eyes.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice smooth and inviting. “Do you need something?”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your words. “I couldn’t help but notice that you seem really into that book. What are you reading?”

He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “It’s a novel by Haruki Murakami. I love his work. It’s a bit surreal, but it has a unique way of exploring human emotions.”